


Perhaps it was Fate

by MadameBaggio



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBaggio/pseuds/MadameBaggio
Summary: Lothíriel is going to kill her brother once she finds him! He should not make promises he doesn't intend to keep.She's decided to hunt him down if necessary. And hunting him down is how the princess of Dol Amroth finds herself in a stranger's bed.All in all... It could be a lot worse.





	Perhaps it was Fate

**Author's Note:**

> So... I mentioned I wanted to make a series of one-shots with this amazing couple.
> 
> This is the first one to get ready.
> 
> I love sassy princesses, and even more princesses getting some well deserved loving.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Lothíriel was going to kill her brother Amrothos when she found him! This was so typical of him! Making promises and completely forgetting about them.

 

She’d arrived to Minas Tirith the day before. Her father had urged her to come for King Elassar’s coronation. Her brother had promised he’d take her for a walk on the markets early in the morning, but he’d forgotten it.

 

Typical.

 

Her father and brothers had been invited by the King himself for supper. She wasn’t young or naïve enough as it to not know that it meant a lot of drinking after. Her father, at least, had returned home, but Echirion and Amrothos hadn’t.

 

Well, Amrothos had promised to take her to the markets, so he was going to. She didn’t care if he was ill from drinking; he was going to keep his word.

 

Unfortunately for Amrothos, Lothíriel knew his secret room at the King’s House. When he came to visit and got too drunk with their cousins and didn’t want his mother to see him, he stayed in a guest room at the Citadel.

 

Lothíriel found out about this room by accident, but it was great leverage against her brother.

 

She crossed the palace quietly, until she found the very last door in the guest wing.

 

Luck was on her side, because it wasn’t locked. She pushed the heavy door open and entered the dark room. The sun was already up but the heavy curtains were pulled tightly closed; there was only a slit of light coming through them. Lothíriel hit something with her leg and cursed under her breath. She was going to kill her brother.

 

She made her way slowly to the place where she remembered the bed being. Her hands were stretched in front of her, and she finally found the sheets. Touching around she found a foot and let her hand slid to the calf.

 

“Amrothos, wake up!” She shook his leg.

 

There was a groan and a grumbled protest, but she ignored it. She shook him again, then walked to the curtains, pulling them open.

 

“Time to wake up and shine, Amrothos.” She sing-songed.

 

She heard another groan and some cursing… In a language she didn’t recognize. Lothíriel felt her blood freezing in her veins as she turned to the bed.

 

That wasn’t her brother.

 

It was a stranger!

 

A naked stranger!

 

Well, he was somewhat tangled with the bed sheets, but she hardly needed to be a genius to know he was naked. He was belly down and had one leg exposed. The sheet was covering the other, his bum, and a good portion of his back, but his shoulders were exposed. All that golden -naked -glory.

 

His long hair was blonde and Lothíriel realized what she’d just done: barged into the quarters of -quite possibly - the King of Rohan.

 

It wasn’t a great leap pf logic. He was a blonde man, obviously a Rohirrim and he was staying in the guest wing of the King’s House when she knew for a fact that the Rohirrim army was staying outside the city walls. If he wasn’t the King, he surely was one of his Marshals.

 

Oh Valar, her father was going to kill her!

 

All of that went through Lothíriel’s head fast, but not fast enough to do something, because the man -the Rohirrim -had opened his eyes and was looking straight at her.

 

“Who are you?” He asked sleepily.

 

“No one.” She offered quickly. “Just a dream.”

 

“A damned good one, I’d say.” He spoke, rubbing his eyes. “But too far away to be an excellent one.” He yawned.

 

What? “Certainly.” She agreed politely. “Anyway, go back to sleep and…”

 

He snorted and rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand. “Nice try. Now, I normally wouldn’t mind having a woman this beautiful in my chambers, but I’d like to know who she is first.”

 

Lothíriel almost rolled her eyes to his ‘beautiful’ comment but decided to let it slide. “As I said, no one, sir. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

 

He yawned again. “I think I should consider this carefully.” He looked at her. “You could be an assassin.”

 

Lothíriel had to hold in a snort, because her aunt Ivriniel was constantly telling her it wasn’t a lady-like thing to do. “An assassin that shook you awake, then opened the curtains so you could have a good view of my face?” She told him, sarcasm making an ill-timed appearance.

 

His smile was a lazy one, and Lothíriel felt her stomach lurching. “Maybe you aren’t an experienced one.”

 

She had to hold back her own smile. “That seems like the most logical answer.”

 

He let out a long sigh. “Perhaps we should get the guards here, so we can get to the bottom of this.” He decided sitting.

 

Lothíriel felt panic taking over, and -without thinking properly -she ran to his bedside. “No, no, no! That is unnecessary.”

 

He arched a brow at her. “That seems highly suspicious, doesn’t it?”

 

Lothíriel opened her mouth to reply that, but her eyes were drawn to his chest. His naked chest. When he’d sat the bedsheet had pulled around his waist.

 

Lothíriel had seen some men without shirt before; her brothers, for one, and the fisherman in Dol Amroth were known for working shirtless at times. However, she’d never been this close and the men in question had never been so…

 

He was a strong man. And his skin had a golden glow and Lothíriel had to close her hands behind her back to avoid touching him. But she wanted to; for some insane reason, she wanted to put her hands on him and…

 

And what?

 

Lothíriel felt herself blushing and prayed -quite uselessly -to any deity that could hear her now, that he hadn’t noticed her gaze. But, of course, he had; the smug smirk on his face said so.

 

“No guards.” She asked clearing her throat. “Please?” She added, almost beggingly, but not quite there -yet.

 

His eyes locked on her face, way to alert for someone who’d just woken up. But then again, he was a warrior; he was probably used to rising from the bed, completely alert at the slightest provocation.

 

“No guards…” He hummed. “I do believe I should interrogate you.”

 

“Interrogate me?” There was a lot of incredulity in those two words. “I can always leave, you know, sir?”

 

He gave her no warning, not even a “by your leave”. He just stretched his hand, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled.

 

Lothíriel shrieked as the world became a blurred tumble. The breath was knocked out of her chest, and when she became aware of her surroundings again, she was lying on the bed, winded and with a Rohirrim on top of her.

 

A naked Rohirrim.

 

She was not, in any shape or form, prepared for this.

 

“You know…” He told her conversationally, “It’s never a good idea to disclose your escape plans like you just did.”

 

Lothíriel took a deep breath and tried to access the situation better. She was sprawled on her back, he was on top of her.

 

More information.

 

He wasn’t holding her hands down, she noticed quickly; one was by her head, the other by her leg. So she could fight him off if needed -even if the chances of her actually succeeding on it were very small.

 

He wasn’t letting his weight down on her either. He was holding his torso’s weight on his elbows -both firmly planted on her sides -so their chests weren’t exactly touching. However, if she took a deep breath, they would definitely brush.

 

He’d gotten himself between her legs -her aunt Ivriniel would die if she ever dreamed of something like this -but Lothíriel was pretty sure it was his waist, and not his hips, that were there.

 

And then there was his face, right above hers, and she could feel his breath on her skin. She could count his eyelashes if she wanted. She could stare at his lips… Like he was staring at hers!

 

“My shoes are going to dirty your sheets.” She spoke (quite idiotically, she’d admit).

 

He grinned at her. “It’s fine. Now tell me your name.” It was said teasingly, but she could hear the undertones of an orders.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She told him easily, if a little breathlessly.

 

“Were you looking for your husband?” He insisted.

 

She snorted. “Hardly.”

 

He arched a brow. “Betrothed?”

 

“Is that your way of making sure you won’t have any angry man coming after you, demanding to duel for their honor?” She asked dryly.

 

“More like making sure you’re free of that problem.” He told her cheekily. “Besides that, despite your very convincing claim of not being an assassin, it’s very important to check you for hidden weapons.”

 

She arched a brow at him. “Well, considering how you’re plastered against me, it should be easy enough to feel them.”

 

His grin was delightfully wicked. “True enough, my lady.”

 

But he said nothing else, just remained exactly where he was. The problem was… She liked it. For some bizarre, strange and unexplored reason, she enjoyed this, him.

 

It made her curious about…

 

That thought woke her up. “Are you going to let me go any time soon?” She asked him, in a tone so calm it didn’t match her tumultuous thoughts.

 

He seemed to consider the idea for a minute. “It depends. Do you want me to?” He asked in an overly-solicitous way.

 

Lothíriel was about to tell him that of course she wanted to be let go, but when she opened her mouth the words didn’t come out.

 

Lothíriel threw her head back and let out a long sigh.

 

“I truly should.” But it was obvious she didn’t want to. She looked him in the eyes again. “Does that make me wicked?”

 

His grin was bemused, but it didn’t make her feel like he was laughing at her. “No. It makes you human. I hardly want to move myself.”

 

That got a laughter out of her. How did she get herself in such a situation?

 

“This could lend both of us in a whole lot of trouble.” She felt the need to mention it.

 

“It’s true.” He nodded gravely, but still didn’t move.

 

“Unless…” She started carefully.

 

It was a stupid thing to even consider. She was a princess, he was a high ranking Rohirrim soldier -quite possibly the King -it would be impossible to keep this a secret. However, he was looking at her with a lot of interest now, and she saw herself speaking, “Unless you don’t tell anyone.”

 

“That could work.” He agreed way too easily. “Besides… It’s just a kiss, right?”

 

She had never said anything about any kiss, but then again, where did she think this was going?

 

And, as her eyes fell to his lips, she realized she really wanted to kiss him.

 

“One kiss?” She asked breathlessly.

  
“One kiss.” He confirmed.

 

She licked her lower lip and his eyes followed the movement. “There is nothing wrong with that.” She offered.

 

“Absolutely nothing.” He agreed.

 

He brushed his nose gently against hers and she realized he was still waiting for some kind of formal permission, giving her time to say a proper ‘no’. But, for some stupid reason, she wanted this, she truly did. Therefore, she raised her hand and touched his cheek.

 

Her eyes closed as his lips touched hers.

 

Lothíriel had only been kissed once. It had been the son of some Gondorian lord, they were both 13 and they’d merely pressed their lips together in a series of short pecks.

 

He decided it was silly, Lothíriel thought she was in love.

 

This was nothing like that.

 

It was soft -it truly was -but it wasn’t a mere peck. His lips pressed firmly against hers as they moved together.

 

One of her hands was on his face and the other found his shoulder as he kissed her, but he didn’t touch her. Lothíriel really wanted him to touch her.

 

Her mouth opened under his and he pulled away.

 

They were both breathing hard and his eyes had gone dark. “This is a terrible idea.” Her breath fanned his lips.

 

“Béma, yes.” His voice was wrecked.

 

He dove back for her lips and this time she was ready for him. His body settled down on hers, and her arms went around his neck. She felt one of his hands on her waist and the other on her face, tilting her head back, as he kissed her deeper.

 

The first touch of his tongue on hers made Lothíriel gasp. She hadn’t been expecting it at all. He gentled his kiss, teaching her how to play, coaxing her to follow him. She might be inexperienced, but she was an eager pupil; in no time at all she was teasing him right back, sucking on his tongue and biting his lower lip.

 

“Minx.” He growled against her mouth.

 

Lothíriel had every intention of saying something back, but his mouth found a spot behind her ear, that robbed her of any coherence. She felt his lips, then a hint of teeth and her whole body shook.

 

As he kept kissing down her neck, Lothíriel let her hands map his shoulder. His skin was hot, and she could feel the strong muscle underneath it, and the scars he carried. She wanted to feel more of him, wanted to find every inch of his skin with her fingertips and, perhaps, with her lips. It was a crazy urge -what was wrong with her? -but it was there all the same.

 

When his lips found the base of her neck and he sucked on it, a moan escaped her lips and her back arched off the bed. Her fingers tangled on his hair and she pulled him back to her mouth and kissed him on a tangle of teeth and tongue.

 

His body surged against hers and Lothíriel wanted to move, but her skirts were holding her legs. He either could read her mind, or he was just thinking exactly the same thing, because he solved the problem: both of his hands pulled her skirts up, freeing her legs. He let his hands feel the softness of her thighs, before urging her to close her legs around his waist.

 

She did it happily, but then a problem presented itself: once his body pressed against hers again, it became obvious he was naked. And no, she hadn’t forgotten this detail, but right then it became clear that the only thing between her and a naked man were her smallclothes.

 

And Lothíriel might be an unmarried maid, but she knew a bit about what went on between a man and a woman. Enough to know that the hardness pressed against the most private part of her was not something an unmarried lady should be feeling.

 

So, even though, his mouth was still pouring kisses on her lips, and she wanted to be even closer to him, she knew she had to stop him.

 

Lothíriel pushed gently at his shoulders and -after one last lingering kiss -he raised his head.

 

He gave her a sad smile. “It’s time to stop, isn’t it?”

 

At least he sounded as put off as she felt. “It is.”

 

He sighed, then let his fingers trace the curve of her face. “Will you tell me your name, my lady?”

 

She snorted. “Not much of a lady, am I?”

 

He clicked his tongue at her. “Why? Because you did what you wanted instead of locking your desires away in a cage? You’re a lady to me.”

 

She smiled at him. “Sweet talker.”

 

He smiled back. “Your name?”

 

She bit her lower lip. “I’ll tell you the next time we meet.”

 

He didn’t look convinced. “What if we don’t meet again?”

 

“Oh, trust me, we will.”

 

Now he seemed amused. “I see. Until next time, my lady.”

 

“Yes, of course. Would you move now, please?”

 

XxX

 

Lothíriel entered the ballroom with trepidation. She’d taken extra care with her appearance that night; even her brothers had noticed. Her father seemed mighty pleased by this and kept dropping King Éomer’s name.

 

The princess truly hoped the man she’d met that morning was the King and not one of his Marshals, or this night was about to get truly awkward.

 

“There he is.” Imrahil whispered in her ear, pointing someone in the distance. “Let me introduce you to Éomer.”

 

Yes, it was him. She felt her heart beating double time as they got closer and closer. What if he didn’t like her at all? What if he’d just taken advantage of a loose girl? What if he thought she’d purposely snuck into his rooms?

 

“Éomer, my friend.” Imrahil smiled at the man. “Allow me to introduce you to my daughter; Princess Lothíriel.”

 

In the bright light of the candles, he looked even more handsome than she remembered. Although she had fond memories of him naked, he looked like a proper King on the beautiful green garb he was wearing. His hair was properly brushed, and his beard was well trimmed. He looked like a King now; a very attractive one.

 

“Imrahil.” He turned to her. “Your daughter, you say?”

 

Lothíriel felt her mouth drying up. “Your Majesty.” She curtsied.

 

“My Lady.” He bowed back. She felt the heat of his eyes all the way to her toes. “I was admiring the gardens earlier, but I was informed that one can easily get lost in them.”

 

“It’s true, Your Majesty.” She confirmed quickly. “But once you know it well, it’s easy to get around.”

 

“Would you care to show me the way?” He asked.

 

“Well…” She was shocked by the brazen invitation. “I’m sure I could, but...” She cleared her throat and turned to her father. “Dad?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Imrahil agreed quickly. “Do go and enjoy the stroll.”

 

Éomer offered his arm to her politely, and Lothíriel nodded at him, before accepting it. They talked about platitudes while they walked, and Lothíriel felt like she was watching a scene play from a distance, like her body was being controlled by someone else.

 

_How could she be this calm right now?_

_How did he dare to be this calm?_

 

They entered the maze and she pointed a fountain at him, and he hummed something. Lothíriel was about to stomp on his feet, just so he’d stop being so annoyingly polite, when the King of Rohan pulled her to alcove.

 

And kissed her.

 

That was more like what she wanted.

 

She threw her arms around his neck and opened her lips to him. He pressed her against the wall of the little alcove and kissed her harder.

 

Kissing him on that bed had been easier since they didn’t have concerns about height; now she felt like he was too far away.

 

He tangled his fingers on her hair, and Lothíriel just knew it would be a mess later, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

 

It seemed like hours passed before their kisses gentled and eventually stopped. Éomer pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes. His were heavy with desire and his breath was labored.

 

“So…” He took a deep breath. “Princess Lothíriel?”

 

She gave a chocked laughter. “You hardly seem surprised, your majesty.”

 

His smile was blinding in its intensity. “You were quite right. We met again.”

 

“I was worried.” She admitted. “That you’d think I snuck into your bed on purpose.”

 

“I wish I was that lucky.” He teased her. “But I didn’t think that. After you left, and I pinched myself to be sure I was awake, I remembered you called another name at first. You called me Amrothos.”

 

“I was looking for that fiend.” She grumbled.

 

“I found him a bit later.” Éomer informed her. “He told me he’d completely forgotten he’d promised to take his sister to the markets. Then he remarked it was a miracle she hadn’t hunted him down and dragged him anyway.”

 

“Then you knew.”

 

He nodded. “Then I knew. It was just Fate that brought you to my room.”

 

She snickered. “Oh yes, Fate brought me to your chambers and my wantonness got me into your bed.” She said dryly.

 

“Haven’t we talked about this?” He chucked her gently under the chin. “Don’t speak about yourself in such a way. There’s nothing wrong with feeling desire and acting on it.”

 

There was a blush on her cheeks, but she felt relieved too. “Especially if I’m acting on it with you, right?” She offered sarcastically.

 

“Exactly.” He agreed politely. “As I said: Fate.”

 

Her laughter was full of incredulity, but he pressed on, undeterred. “What else would you call it?” Éomer pulled her to him, then touched his forehead to hers. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…”

 

“That’s a bit much.”

 

“Enters my chambers looking for her brother, and leaves with my heart.”

 

Laughter exploded from her. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”

 

“Not at all, my lady.” He grinned down at her.

 

“So, what do we do now?” She asked, still amused by his antics.

 

“Now, I shall kiss you some more, then I’ll talk to your father about courting.”

 

“Courting?” She arched a brow. “I don’t remember being consulted on that.”

 

“That’s why I’m about to kiss you some more.” He informed her. “I’ll muddle your mind with my charms…”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Then you shall accept my court.”

 

“You sound too convinced of your abilities, Your Majesty.” Her face should be hurting from smiling so much; the more time she passed like this with him, the happier she became. It was ridiculous, downright impossible.

 

They’d just met. How could he make her feel that way?

 

“I shall prove it to you.” He dropped a short kiss on her lips.

 

She sighed. “Fate?”

 

His smile was beautiful. “Fate.”

 

Fine. It was fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, I have not forgotten or abbandoned "If I Close My Eyes." I'll be back to it soon.
> 
> Let me know your feelings.
> 
> xoxo


End file.
